


Pull Me Closer

by SheWhoWalksUnseen



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Ignores Most of Flash S3, Leonard Snart Owns S&S, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M, Making Out, Mentioned only ofc, Post-Oculus (DC's Legends of Tomorrow), Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 10:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWhoWalksUnseen/pseuds/SheWhoWalksUnseen
Summary: Leonard Snart made it a point to Notice - with a capital N, to be exact - everything and anything around him and keep track of all variables in a potential situation. Anything ranging from a minor change in a guard’s shift, to the brush of a shoulder against his meant plans needed to change and he needed to account for this new information. Len was a planner, he liked plans and organization, filing all of his feelings and knowledge into boxes for later in the back of his mind.So the fact that he hadn’t noticed until as of late when Barry first started touching him was troubling.





	Pull Me Closer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thette/gifts).

> I got the prompt for this MONTHS ago, but that was also before my writer's block and depression hit real bad, so I'm sorry about that. But also, I got really inspired for this fic over the last couple days so a lot of this might be rambly because I decided to leave this unbetaed. Oops?
> 
> Thette's lovely original prompt was for my "Touchstarved" bingo square and read _Len never let anybody touch him. Usually. But Barry is extremely touchy-feely, and now that they’re working together, Len finds that he doesn’t mind being touched. Actually, he craves it, can’t get enough. But it’s just a phase, right?_ This got a liiiiittle out of hand, but I hope you enjoy it <3

“She should be around the corner,” Barry murmured. With his back pressed to the brick, and leaning a bit too close over Len for his liking, their chests nearly bumping, Len could see a bead of sweat drip from Barry’s brow under the cowl. After being chased by this meta for half an hour, Len wondered if Barry’s legs were aching as much as his were. Or, maybe that was another perk of having superspeed.

“You said that the last three times too.”

Barry huffed and leaned back when he realized just how invasive he was being to Len’s personal space, clearing his throat. Len’s gut twisted and the feeling wasn’t...entirely unpleasant.

He hated that the thought crossed his mind at all.

“She’s fast, okay? Not faster than me, but her powers seem to be similar to Shawna’s. Uh, Peek-a-Boo’s, you know. Just - I don’t understand how she’s booking it around the city so quickly.”

“Sure you don’t have another competitive speedster out there?”

“I’m pretty sure. Besides, it would’ve been obvious if she was a speedster. The whole…” Barry waved his hands in a vague gesture that Len didn’t quite get the gist of. “You know. Lightning ordeal.”

Len raised an eyebrow. “So, a blatant display of her powers like your day-to-day do-gooder activities?”

Barry’s mouth twitched. “_Blatant_?”

“Obvious. Showy.”

“I know what it _ means_,” Barry said, though he shook his head and looked away. Likely to hide the smile he wasn’t doing a very good job of suppressing. “Funny, though. Would’ve thought you liked that sort of thing.”

Len’s poor gut gave another wrenching lurch. It was his turn to keep watch around the corner, tensing for a moment when he thought he spotted the meta chasing them rounding the corner - but no, sadly, it was just a mother with similarly poor fashion taste (and really, what was with supervillains and wearing garishly bright colors? Len’s parka wasn’t _ that _ much of an eyesore).

“Don’t know where you got that idea.”

“Says the man who broke into a car warehouse just to get my attention - and then kidnapped not one but _ two _ of my friends because I wouldn’t play with you.”

“And here I thought you’d gotten over that.” Barry scoffed and Len bit back a smirk, even though Barry couldn’t see his expression. “Besides, if I’m remembering correctly, you came both times.”

“Because you’re an asshole.” There was a strange note of something Len didn’t dare categorize as fondness in Barry’s voice.

Though, he had a feeling Barry wasn’t talking about kidnapping anymore.

“You know,” Len watched Barry tilt his head out of the corner of his eye and did _ not _ scowl at as a shit-eating grin passed over the other’s features, “I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’, but…”

“Says the man who just said exactly that.”

“But you’re _ here_,” Barry said, ignoring Len’s grumble.

“Ever heard of following your best interests, kid? Namely, not nosing into other people’s business?”

Barry made a sound that came out suspiciously like a snort. “Oh, come on. You have to admit that this is fun. Or, at least a change of pace from your usual criminal shenanigans.”

Len raised an eyebrow. “Criminal shenanigans.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Uh huh.” Still, he could feel his lips curling and Len had to glance away once more, peering around the corner. Thankfully, Barry had long since turned off his comms - Len had a feeling that none of the Flash’s pals would be eager to hear another one of Barry’s inspirational, know-it-all hero speeches.

Not that Len was too keen to hear any either. A sigh tickled the back of his throat already at the very thought.

When he’d agreed to help the Flash and his team track down a meta frequenting _ Saints and Sinners_, getting chased by the target after she realized just who Len was with hadn’t been part of the plan. Then again, helping out in the first place hadn’t been anywhere _ near _ part of his initial plan either. He was supposed to be on leave from the Legends, figuring out what he wanted to do after the whole mess with the Oculus.

Mick was only supposed to be sticking around on that flying trouble magnet of a ship for a little longer, or so he claimed, muttering something about getting caught up with a historian and more time travel nonsense, but he had seen the look in Mick’s eyes when Len declared he was taking his leave. It couldn’t be because of the “heroic” deeds or the comradery of the team itself (and quite a few had left said team too, if what Mick had told him was true). There was a new fire there, a spark he hadn’t seen since before -

Since before Chronos.

Before 2046 when Len fucked them both over worse than he ever had in the present.

He had a feeling Mick had found what he was looking for, now that Len was stepping down for the time being. Ironic, given that it was the latter who had wanted to go on the damn ship in the first place.

Where _ Len _ ought to be, though? That was a whole other mystery entirely.

He certainly wasn’t meant to be _ here_, playing hide-and-seek with the Flash and tossing jokes around like they were old friends. It almost made him uncomfortable, seeing how casual Barry was about their first fights, how much pain he had caused the other.

Did Barry really not remember that? Or was he choosing not to? 

He didn’t seem like the type of man to ignore those issues, even with the “you’re a good person, you can be a hero, I swear” routine. In fact, he _ hadn’t _ time and time again, and while Len preferred not to harp on the past, something about the notion of Barry ignoring their history irked him. Maybe it was the idea of another speech coming. He really didn’t have it in him not to snap if the speedster tried one on him right now.

Barry shifted in place, crossing his arms over his chest. Len found it hard to take him seriously when he was fidgeting around like a child hyped up on sugar. Though, maybe it was a side effect of his speed; that much power had to come with drawbacks.

Maybe he’d ask Barry about it later. Just for curiosity’s sake.

A sharp _ pop _ around the corner sent both of their heads turning as one, and Len caught a glimpse of the garish yellow-red outfit that their meta dared call a “supersuit”. The irony in color choice when Len was standing next to the Flash didn’t escape him, but _ really_, surely anyone with a brain knew better than to pair a neon yellow top with a red that verged on being called orange.

Barry tapped his comms, brow furrowing as he sobered. His elbow brushed Len’s side and if not for the layers between them (and a refusal to flinch after years of practice), Len might’ve jolted forward. Electricity was already crackling off the end of his arm and the warmth spreading through their strange huddle was both a comfort and a warning.

“Cisco says she’ll probably make for the bar across the street,” Barry murmured. “Blending in and all that.”

“Blending in?”

“They ran facial recognition and apparently she used to be a bartender at _ Saints _ and has been looking for a new job since the Particle Accelerator went off.”

Len tore his eyes away from the meta to frown at Barry. “She just wants a job?”

“I guess so. But, I mean - ”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Len sighed and held up a hand. “Wait here, _ Flash_.”

“Wha - Snart, what are you - ”

The choked cry behind him fell on deaf ears as Len stepped around the corner, spotting the woman as she did indeed move to enter a bar across the street. He holstered the cold gun and raised his voice, smirk falling into place: “You know, it seems like a bit of a waste to bar hop in broad daylight.”

“_What are you doing?_” Barry hissed, but the damage was done. The woman spun around, hands raised with narrowed eyes before she met Len’s. He took careful note of the shimmer of red, almost like a second skin, forming over her palms.

“I told you,” she said, stepping away from the bar and closer to the street itself, “I don’t want any trouble, especially not when you’re working with _ him_.”

“Explains why you chased us five blocks.”

He swore her mouth twitched. “Thought I’d scared you off, that’s all.”

“Of course.” Len crossed the street, keeping one eye on the meta and the other on Barry’s not-so-subtle watch in the shadows. She tensed as he drew nearer but held her ground, the telltale red beginning to glow as it spread up the arms of her suit. “However, scaring off your new employers doesn’t seem like the best job-hunting tactic. If you don’t mind me saying.”

She blinked, and her concentrated gaze relaxed a little, eyes narrowed more out of confusion than wariness. “Your… What?”

“Well, before you ran us out of the bar, I was gonna tell you you’d be a good choice for the job.” Len reined in his smirk as he watched the shimmer dissolve across her skin. “You know your stuff, Baez seemed to like you, and, well, I happen to be _ good friends _ with the owner.”

“You’re - wait, _ you _ own _ Saints_?” Her posture straightened. “But… I thought…”

“It’s a fairly recent acquisition,” Len admitted. “Figured people like us needed some place to lay low for a while.”

She dropped her hands and a hint of a smile, wide and beaming, inched its way onto her features. “But what about the Flash? He knew you were there today, aren’t you working with him?”

“It’s more of the other way around at times. Let’s just say he owes me a favor.”

“Huh.” She folded her arms over her chest and Len could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “Well, if you’re serious, I _ would _ like that job. Chasing and name-calling aside, if you’re not gonna hold a grudge, that is. You have no idea how hard it is to find a decent-paying job when everyone’s ready to throw you in a cell these days.”

“Don’t I ever,” Len deadpanned.

Thankfully she didn’t appear interested in making small talk in the middle of a relatively empty street and after reassurances that he’d give her number to Baez so she could fill her in on pay and hours working at the bar, one Miss Gray waved at him rather cheerfully before dissolving into a crimson mist. 

Yeah, she and Baez were going to get along like a house on fire.

“That’s it?”

Speaking of certain shades of red. Len spun on his heel and shrugged, more than a little pleased at the dumbfounded look on Barry’s face. “Did you expect me to put her on ice? Because she seems to need that money.”

“No, I...” Barry shook his head. “I thought we agreed to wait and then follow her in, corner her, you know.”

“Well, call me crazy, but I’m not too keen on imprisoning people who’re scared out of their mind and just can’t hold a job.”

“So you offered her a _ job_.”

“Yes.”

“You do realize _ Saints and Sinners _ \- ”

“Needs a new bartender for the night shift anyway,” Len cut him off, spreading his hands as if to say _ what else did you expect me to do? _ “Baez gets lonely with just Mardon popping by on the occasion and with my sister out of town, I’m sure your lovely target would fit in nicely. She did mention she made a mean mojito, after all.”

Barry stepped closer, a strange look crossing his face so fast Len couldn’t identify it. Or maybe it was the cowl’s fault for obscuring his features. “You’re serious.”

“Of course. What’s that famous saying: ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’? No?”

“You _ own _ that bar. You own _ Saints and Sinners_.”

Oh, _ that _was what he was stuck on? “As of a month or two ago, yes.”

Barry floundered for a moment but Len held his gaze and the sputtering died as quickly as it had come. “Were you just not going to mention that? We could’ve skipped that whole misunderstanding!”

“Well, perhaps you ought to be more forthcoming with certain details next time.”

“We literally didn’t know who she was until we got her on facial recognition today.”

“Not my fault,” Len maintained, though his smirk started to waver as Barry’s own lips curled and the other sighed in exasperation. Barry placed his hands on his hips, and Len got a familiar itch in his gut to cut off any beginnings of that heroic spiel. His hand moved toward the cold gun on his thigh, a warning Barry would surely recognize, but the other just smiled wider.

“Resolving a conflict peacefully, rehabilitating criminals… You know…”

“If you say anything about the ‘good’ in me,” Len sneered, “I’ll see how you like being a snowman, _ Flash_.”

“I’m just saying! That was a smart plan.”

“Better than illegally and unlawfully imprisoning metahumans in your own personal jail?” Len needled, if only to try and regain what moral high ground he seemed to have lost.

Barry snorted. “Well, I’d say _ the g-word_, but I’d rather not ruin the moment by becoming Frosty the Snowman, so yeah, I’d say it was a helluva lot better than our original plan.” He hesitated before moving to close the distance between them, his mouth brushing Len’s ear, and somehow Len found his resolve dwindling, a spark of heat racing through his veins. “Besides, I think you mentioned something about me owing you a favor, so… consider that as much as I’m gonna drop the matter.”

Len glared at him, but with Barry so near, hands grazing his jacket, he couldn’t find it in him to muster any real heat toward the other man. “How generous of you.”

Barry’s smile transformed into a smirk and that was all the warning he received before his world became a blur of lightning and scarlet blazing before his eyes like wildfire, Barry’s very touch warming him through the parka’s fabric. Len sucked in a gasp that threatened to escape - both due to the sudden movement and the heat engulfing him that was wholly _ Barry _ \- yet he didn’t dare shut his eyes. He’d made that mistake only once, and his stomach hadn’t quite appreciated the feeling as much as he had.

If this could be called appreciation, that is. Len wasn’t sure _ what _ he was feeling, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to unearth said feeling in the first place.

He hadn’t noticed it on these little missions. Not at first. Which was saying something, since Leonard Snart made it a point to Notice - with a capital N, to be exact - everything and anything around him and keep track of all variables in a potential situation. Anything ranging from a minor change in a guard’s shift, to the brush of a shoulder against his meant plans needed to change and he needed to account for this new information. Len was a planner, he liked plans and organization, filing all of his feelings and knowledge into boxes for later in the back of his mind.

So the fact that he hadn’t noticed until as of late when Barry first started touching him was troubling.

For many reasons.

The first, and most important, being that he didn’t touch people. Not without some measure of control. _ Len _had to touch and it was a brief one at that. And if he was the one receiving contact?

Well, he made them regret it in the next second before they could say “Captain Cold”. 

Not with his fists; no, that was usually a job reserved for Mick, sometimes even Lisa if she was pissed enough. Though, Len would give them a _ look _ if they did and that was enough to get them to back down. He didn’t like to make a scene. It was easier to play it off, keep up the persona of the ice-cold facade, pretend he didn’t care in the first place with a quick shrug and narrow-eyed once-over. Len wasn’t short, nowhere near it - he often wound up being the tallest in the room - but the way he shrank in on himself, just for a moment, that was all it took, at the brush of skin against his, a hand on his shoulder to either attempt to placate or hurt him…

That wasn’t something he could prepare for.

Likewise, he hadn’t prepared himself for Barry Allen - if it was even possible to prepare for one over-eager, reckless speedster - not in _ this _ way, at least. For Barry’s speeches and do-gooder attitude, of course. 

But these touches that were both oh-so-fleeting and agonizingly warm and somehow, for the first time in his life, a _ comfort _ though he didn’t understand why?

Yeah, there was no way to prepare himself fully when Barry showed no intention of pulling away and giving him space to figure out just why this difference _ mattered_.

The world around them came into roaring clarity all at once and Len blinked once, then twice to get his surroundings in sight and steady himself. Barry’s hands still gripped his waist, the pressure surprisingly light considering how far he’d run, and Len wondered if he realized he hadn’t let go yet.

Then Len spotted a familiar door at the end of the tunnel they were standing in, one that was _ definitely _not the Cortex, and he glanced up at the speedster with a raised brow. “Took that pipeline comment to heart, did you, Barry?”

It was Barry’s turn to blink, drawing his hands back quickly and giving Len a sheepish look that did nothing to quell the flare of (silly, _ ridiculous _) disappointment at the loss of contact. “No, that’s not - I just didn’t want - ”

“Relax, kid,” Len assured him. He couldn’t help the way his gut warmed at the relief written plain as day on Barry’s face. “Just a joke. Take a wrong turn?”

“No, actually.” Barry pulled back his cowl, hair sweaty and mussed as it fell over his forehead. He ran a hand through his hair with a grimace. “I wanted to… I wanted to ask you something. Not near everybody else. In the Cortex, I mean.”

“Ah.” Len wasn’t sure what to say to that so he settled for leaning against the wall of the pipeline and watching Barry steel himself for whatever it was he was trying to convey.

“You’ve been helping us a lot lately. Since you came back from the Legends, I mean.” Len opened his mouth but the speedster held up his hands in a flicker of lightning almost too fast for Len to catch. “And don’t even deny it because you _ have_, Snart. And well, it’s - it’s nice, you know, getting to work together rather than fighting in a bank or on the streets. It’s…” A ghost of a smile played on his lips, only for a moment. “It’s different.”

“Spare me the speech,” Len snapped. “I thought we went over this.”

“This isn’t about - I’m trying to say that it’s been nice to work together, whether it’s for your version of altruistic reasons or not.” Barry swallowed and his cheeks pinkened. “After what happened with Mardon and Jesse and then the Legends, I wasn’t sure if you were going to come back. At all.”

That threw him for a loop. Len frowned. “To Central City?”

“Yeah.” There it was again, that barely-there smile, this time tinged with something Len might’ve called melancholia. “I mean, from what I heard, you nearly died. Or, you did die and you came back, I - I don’t know the specifics and I’m not sure I want to. But, point is, I didn’t know if you were going to look for a fresh start elsewhere despite this being your home. Seemed like the logical thing to do.”

“Logical? Leaving town just because of one close call?” Len had to scoff. “Really, Barry, I thought we knew each other better than that.”

“Well, you almost _ died_, okay?” Barry looked a bit abashed by his own words, the harsh volume that caused him to wince and look away. The flush to his cheeks darkened but it looked like less of an embarrassed tell now and more of something that made Len hesitant to snap at him again. “I didn’t even know until Ray told me and…” He shut his eyes. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about, though.”

“Didn’t know you cared so much,” Len said, and he didn’t intend to drop the slow drawl but the frustration laced within Barry’s voice niggled at him and his own words came out rushed, almost eager.

He regretted it in the next moment when Barry fixed him with that rueful smile, tight at the corners as he leaned on the wall beside Len. A faint whiff of ozone drifted through the air and Len couldn’t tell if Barry was going to run or that lightning searing through his veins usually gave off such a scent. Either way it was a big tell, a screaming, bright red sign that spelled out _ The Flash _ in bold letters; it made part of Len want to shake him and warn him, get him to cover it up because _ tells make you weak and you can’t show any weakness if you’re my son, right, Leo? _

(The smaller, quieter voice within Len murmured that it was actually a nice scent, and _ look, see, you’re already relaxing, Lenny_. He pointedly ignored the fact that said voice and tone bore a startling resemblance to a certain sister of his.)

“Of course I do,” Barry replied, and Len had to shake himself out of his daze to pay attention to the speedster’s own soft words. “I thought you’d have known that by now.”

Len thought about shrugging but his breath caught in his throat when hazel eyes met his, unbearably fond without care for the consequences. _ As per usual_, Len conceded, _ for one Barry Allen_. 

There was a time when he’d found that softness - that _ weakness_, his father would’ve sneered - insufferable beyond belief, using it against the Flash to make him chase down runaway trains and save ushers in crowded theaters.

He considered it now, reaching for his gun, icing Barry to the spot and chuckling at the shock that would surely paint his features. Speed couldn’t prepare you for everything, after all, and it was good to keep your enemies on their toes. It’d certainly solve this little problem Len was experiencing now with physical contact, put a stopper on these feelings before they got out of hand.

Something knowing, as if Barry could see him contemplating the option, crept into the speedster’s eyes and the tight edges of his smile smoothed over the longer he stared.

The worst part was, even if he _ did _ take the _ colder _ option, for lack of a better term, he had a feeling Barry would be understanding, wouldn’t begrudge his harsh actions. And then the ache would only worsen and grow, a storm surge unable to be contained by a feebly built cinderblock wall, and while Len was good at prioritizing and compartmentalizing things like guilt, Barry Allen and his unashamed touches threatened that wall’s integrity more so than anyone in a long time.

Barry’s head tilted as he turned to face Len fully, one shoulder leaning hard into the wall of the pipeline. “I know I shouldn’t assume,” he said, “but, I just - I like you, Snart. I think you know that already, but - ”

“Barry,” Len murmured, half a warning to the man and maybe to himself as well. He could _ feel _ the distance between their bodies, mere inches as Barry’s eyes darted to Len’s mouth, and _ oh_, this really wasn’t helping. 

“No, look,” Barry scratched the back of his neck with one hand and he inadvertently brushed Len’s arm, a move that would typically cause the latter to seize up or lash out - and yet he just watched Barry gnaw on his lower lip, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I get that you’re gonna say this couldn’t work and too much is at risk and there are very good reasons as to why this can’t or shouldn’t happen, but I already told the team I don’t care. I know there are risks and it’s scary, but I - you almost _ died _ and I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if you’d really sacrificed yourself. So honestly, does it matter when we could talk about the pros and cons later?”

“_Barry_.”

“Snart, I - _ Len_,” and Len swallowed hard, watched Barry do the same despite still not meeting his gaze, “it’s probably impulsive and stupid but what I - what I _ really _ care about is _you _ \- ”

“_Barry_,” Len growled and something in his tone must’ve grabbed Barry’s attention finally because he glanced over with widening eyes, lips parted mid-ramble. He stepped into Barry’s space, hooking one hand in the Flash suit’s belt, and a small crackle of lightning leapt off of the contact and Len’s slender fingers. He fought back a shudder at the sensation.

“Yeah?” Barry’s question was a breathless gasp, one he nearly didn’t catch. 

Len allowed himself a smirk, thin and verging on fond (though he’d never admit it out loud). “Shut up,” he said, and then he erased the distance between them to swallow the quiet “_oh_” that escaped Barry’s lips.

Part of him just intended to stop Barry from rambling - even if his argument was foolhardy and reckless and a tad adorable, and how long exactly had he been planning that little conversation? - but the more prominent urge hissed to press closer, throw himself forward into those heated palms and the flare of electricity sizzling around them both. Usually, Len was the one to push, to shove others away and make good on his threats to those who dared lay a hand on him.

This time, he _ pulled _ on the belt before him, free hand surging up and angling Barry’s head into the kiss, and Barry was the one letting him, a noise not unlike a whine muffled against Len’s mouth as Barry held him steady at the waist. The light touch, not even skin-to-skin contact, snapped something inside him. Len shifted his hand to Barry’s hair, eliciting another delightful noise as he _ tugged_, leaving the fingers at Len’s waist to seize harder and yank at the fabric of his jacket. A spark of yellow jumped and sizzled against Len’s side and shirt, more of a tickle than a burn. He could _ taste _ that lingering ozone on Barry’s tongue as he pushed the other’s back flat against the wall, heady and just as warm as the rest of his skin.

Jesus, was this what it felt like to _ be _ the Flash? All this power, this energy pulling and tugging and _ yearning _ for more - all trapped between the two of them with boundless room to fly free. It was almost addictive.

Scratch that, _ Barry _ was addictive. 

Said speedster snuck his hands under Len’s shirt, unknowingly sliding by several scars and old wounds in the process. Len didn’t quite gasp but he must’ve made some kind of sound since Barry paused, pulling back to give Len a once-over with a flick of his eyes. The darkened pupils and wild state of Barry’s hair was a welcome sight, but Len couldn’t resist leveling the other with a glare, the itch to keep touching and _ pulling _ buzzing under his skin like its own version of Barry’s lightning.

“Too fast, Flash?” he teased.

Barry snorted but he didn’t budge, eyeing the place where his hands lay on Len’s side with a growing glint behind his stare. He flexed his fingers against the raised skin, thumb tracing the end of a particularly large scar courtesy of a butter knife from Lewis, and Len tensed.

“You good?” Barry asked and Len’s glare became a scowl.

“I’m not made of glass.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Barry nodded to the scars peeking out from under Len’s shirt. “I can - do you need me to stop - ”

Len let go of the belt to grab Barry’s wrist as he made to pull away again, gritting his teeth. He didn’t want to talk about the scars, not like this (or ever, if he was honest), but the idea of Barry _ stopping _ was infuriating to even think about. “I’m _ fine_. It’s not about _ that_.”

Barry frowned. “Well - ”

Len pressed Barry’s hand flat against his side, an inch or two below the scar, and sucked in a breath through his teeth at the warmth flooding through him thanks to Barry’s palm. “I’m fine,” he repeated, maintaining eye contact with Barry as he leaned into the touch.

“Len - ”

“_Better _ than fine.”

Barry’s gaze snapped between his hand and Len’s face before something dawned on his features, quick and intuitive. He pressed his hands harder against Len’s skin and kept them firm, watched Len breathe a little easier. 

“Oh,” Barry mumbled, but it was a knowing _ oh _ this time. He glanced once more at his hands before smirking at Len, expression much less guarded now. “Well. If you say so.”

Len rolled his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky now, Flash,” he drawled, traces of Captain Cold poking through.

“You _ like _ this,” Barry said, and _ there _ was the almost endearing cocksure superhero rising to meet his challenge, smirk widening by the minute. “You like _ me _touching - ”

“Keep this up and you're on thin ice.”

Barry huffed at the pun but he looked far from annoyed. He moved one hand to the side of Len’s neck and Len swallowed at the unexpected thrill the contact sent through him. A buzz of electricity hummed against his throat, a little tease instead of a harbinger of pain. Len tested his relaxed hold on Barry’s hair, which had all but dissolved until now, and the speedster’s gaze darkened.

“Funny,” Barry said quietly, “would’ve thought you’d be one for going slow.”

Len tapped his thumb against Barry’s hand on his waist, unable to stop his own smirk from forming. God, Barry really was an addiction of his own kind. “And again, here I thought you knew me well, Barry. I’m a thief.” He leaned in, lips ghosting over the other’s ever-so-slightly. More lightning fizzled against Len’s skin, jumpy and nervous, and he would’ve bet a thousand bucks it was in sync with Barry’s stuttered breath and heartbeat. “I _ take _ what I want.”

“Then take it,” Barry whispered.

And so Len surged forward, cradling his face in his hands to get the heat and touch he so craved, and Barry rose to meet him like he always did.

(And maybe the two of them simply forgot about the comms and a certain worried team who tracked the Flash suit to the pipeline... only to turn around once they got to the entrance and _heard_ what was happening.

But that was for a later time to evaluate and groan over, when Iris, Caitlin and Cisco finally stopped laughing and/or shaking their heads at them because _really_, _we communicate for a reason, Barry, we're a TEAM, there's no time to make_ out_ like teenagers_, and Len looked across the room at a red-faced speedster and bit back a smile to himself, still feeling the lingering warmth of the other's hands on his skin.)

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me at my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


End file.
